A Fitting Epitaph
by LadyHeatherlly
Summary: Merlin realizes that closure is impossible in the face of deception, and that truth can prove to be a redemption for both the living and the dead.
1. Part I

**- -o- - Part I - -o- -**

One unthinking comment, innocently spoken in memory of a beloved friend, shattered the illusion of acceptance that had existed since Arthur's reconciliation with Guinevere, his new wife and queen.

"Lancelot loved roasted boar, even if he wasn't so good at hunting them," Gwaine chuckled fondly. "Remember that time he..."

The hapless knight trailed off with a look of dismay, visibly cringing as the conversation around him screeched to an abrupt halt. Throughout the great hall, which had been filled with the sounds of joyful revelry only moments before, the crowd became deathly still, seeming to hold its breath as it waited for the newly wedded King to react to the painful reminder of his traitorous former friend.

They were not disappointed. Arthur's features twisted, displaying a gutwrenching succession of anger, betrayal, disappointment and grief. Beside him, Queen Guinevere's eyes lowered in helpless shame, as the Knights surrounding the couple cast their gazes about awkwardly, desperately searching for something, _anything_, that might relieve the tension.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Gwaine started, holding his hands out helplessly.

"Enough," Arthur whispered painfully, and the quiet word echoed through the silent hall.

The reverberations called out to Merlin like a scream, setting fire to emotions he'd tried to bury deep within himself in a futile attempt to pretend that all was well... that he _hadn't _been mourning a friend's tarnished memory since the day he'd lain him to rest. Upon Gwaine's guileless words, however, he could no longer deny his grief, nor the way his heart ached for his King and Queen and how much they both still suffered under false pretenses.

_Lies, so many lies..._ Merlin was sick to death of lies. He couldn't do much to change the necessary deception in his own life, but what of his friends? Who was protected, what harm was prevented, by carrying on with the illusion that Lancelot had been aware of his actions, and that Gwen had acted of her own free will when they'd betrayed the King?

On the contrary, it seemed to Merlin that the hearts of those he loved would never fully heal unless the truth was known. Their pain wouldn't simply fade with time, as Gaius had promised, and the innocent man that lay silent in a watery grave would never be given the chance to redeem himself if Merlin did not act on his behalf.

Overwhelmed by grief and remorse, the young warlock slipped away from the wedding feast, never noticing the elderly man who politely excused himself and followed in his wake.

_Enough... _Merlin's footfalls seemed to pound out the word in frantic repetition as he raced up the stairs and through the long corridors of the palace. _Enough... I have to make this right._

He threw the chamber door open with a crash, panting heavily as his eyes took in the sight of heavy, unused furniture that was covered by a thick blanket of dust. Agravaine's former quarters now lay empty; silent and untouched since the day they'd been abandoned by their former occupant.

Without hesitation, Merlin dropped to his knees and searched beneath the bed, giving a satisfied grunt as his fingers brushed against the box that had contained the traitor's secrets. He pulled it out into the light, and with a whispered word and a flash of gold, the lock came free.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" hissed a familiar voice behind him.

He jumped, then bit his lip as he braced himself for a confrontation he had desperately hoped to avoid.

"Nothing, Gaius," he said, trying to affect an innocent expression, and then a grin, as he turned to meet the accusing stare he knew all too well. "Just checking for woodworm, that's all."

Gaius narrowed his eyes sternly. "Those flimsy excuses might work on Arthur, but they don't fool me, my boy. Now tell me the truth!"

Merlin sighed. "All right. I can't leave things this way. I can't let Arthur continue to believe that Lancelot and Gwen betrayed him. I can't stand to see his pain, Gaius. He needs to know the truth."

"No, Merlin," Gaius said firmly. "We've already discussed this. It's too dangerous! Leave it be, and it will heal with time, I promise you. Come now, let's return to the feast before Arthur notices your absence."

"And what about Lancelot?" Merlin asked him quietly. "Gwen may have earned Arthur's forgiveness, but he has no chance to do the same if the truth is never known. He doesn't deserve to be remembered as a traitor, Gaius, you know that."

Gaius sighed heavily. "It's an unfortunate thing, but there's no changing it now. You'd be risking your own safety if you tried. I think Lancelot would have understood that."

Merlin felt a rush of sudden anger building inside him. "That's not good enough, Gaius! What use is all this power, if I can do nothing to help my friends?"

"You've saved Arthur, many times," Gaius pointed out with an arched eyebrow. "You're living your destiny, Merlin. You mustn't put that at risk for..."

"Arthur isn't the only person I care about!" Merlin shouted in frustration, hating the resentment behind the words, yet unable to control his feelings any longer. He'd had enough.

Suddenly, all the years of helplessness, of suffering and of loss, boiled up within him, threatening to overflow like a pitcher that simply couldn't hold another drop of cider. Faces appeared before him then; first Lancelot, the dear friend he'd had to watch die not once, but _twice_, utterly powerless to prevent his demise in either case. Fainter, but still sharply painful when he conjured up the memory, he saw Freya, dying in his arms in the wake of sweet, unselfish promises.

Merlin couldn't save her. So much magic, _useless_, because couldn't save her...

And then there was his father, the man who had shared so much of himself in the short time they'd had together. Merlin had known only a taste of the precious bond that had been denied them both; snatched away not only by death, but by the lifetime they'd been forced to spend apart due to Uther's tyrannical ban on magic.

"No man is worth your tears," Arthur had said, and for a fleeting moment, the mere span of a heartbeat, Merlin had _hated_ him for the words. _Despised_ him, because the lifeless body he'd held clutched tightly to his chest _should _have been the man that mattered most of all, and it had been beyond his power to help him.

Will's face rose before him, too; gentle, honest features twisting in pain as his innocent young life had slipped away. All because Merlin _could not openly use his powers to save him._

Merlin knew he could not admit that it was himself, not Will, who had used sorcery back in Ealdor all those years before. He couldn't tell Arthur that Balinor had been his father; a good and honest man who had been persecuted by an unjust king who had hunted him like a criminal. And he could never reveal that Freya had been only an innocent girl; a victim who had suffered from a curse that had been beyond her control.

But _Lancelot_... there might still be a chance to act on his behalf, _without _revealing his magic. And if he could do that, maybe it would prove to be some small vindication for them all.

"I'm going to do this, Gaius," he said quietly, with steel in his voice. "There's nothing you can say that will change my mind."

"Merlin, didn't I tell you...?" the older man began to protest.

"You were wrong," Merlin responded flatly, even though it hurt deeply to see the pained surprise on the kind, careworn face he knew so well. "I'm sorry, Gaius, but I have to follow my conscience."

"Merlin, the risk," Gaius objected, his eyes filled with frustration and worry. "You can't..."

"I don't care about the risk," was his determined reply as he turned to his task. "It doesn't matter to me anymore. But if it does to you, you may want to leave me, so I can get this over with before I'm discovered."

Gaius' mouth opened and closed several times, before he finally shook his head and reluctantly left the room.


	2. Part II

**- -o- - Part II - -o- -**

"Ic us bisen hræð tán hwanon," Merlin whispered, as he hovered his hand over the empty slip of parchment he'd found among Agravaine's abandoned possessions. Suddenly, the blank surface began to fill with line after line of Morgana's harsh, yet elegant script.

_Appropriate, _Merlin mused sadly to himself, his eyes filling with unbidden tears as he remembered a time so long before, and of himself performing the very same action on Lancelot's behalf for another reason entirely.

Then again, _was_ it so different? No, the purpose behind his intervention had not changed; the deep desire for the world to see Lancelot as he truly was... or as he _had_ been. Sir Lancelot: Faithful, honorable, unselfish and so very brave.

_This will make it right,_ Merlin swore to himself as he studied the forged letter in his hands. _When this is discovered, they will know the truth._

He pulled out a second sheet of parchment, and then a third, repeating the familiar spell until the pages were filled. Satisfied, he sank back on his heels to check over his handiwork.

* * *

_Agravaine,_

_The spell is complete. I have resurrected Lancelot as a shade, filled his head with the necessary information and as we speak, he's on his way to Camelot under the thrall of my command._

_Agravaine, you must remember that this man is merely a shadow of who he once was, and has no memory of his former life. He is a ghost, a phantom, incapable of human emotion or free will. Therefore, you must guide him, and __**must**__ intervene on his behalf if anyone becomes suspicious of his motives._

_Do not fail me, Agravaine. I will not see Guinevere seated upon my throne._

_Morgana_

* * *

_My Lady Morgana,_

_The servant girl is proving to be more of a challenge than we expected. It seems she truly loves Arthur, for she reacts to our Lancelot with nothing more than detached discomfort while in his presence._

_I believe the enchantment you have prepared to be a necessary measure, my lady. I will meet you at our appointed time and place, to ensure that it is carried out according to your specifications._

_Your loyal servant,_

_Agravaine_

* * *

_Lancelot,_

_You have done well in your task. I have no further use for your services, save one. You are to end your life by suicide; a dishonorable end to a dishonorable man. Nothing will pain my dear brother more, save what has already been done._

_Agravaine will provide you with the means by which my instructions should be carried out. See to it without further delay._

_Morgana_

* * *

The cruel words pained Merlin deeply, for he knew his version must be close to the truth of what had happened. He had to take a moment to collect himself, before tucking the letters away in the box and closing the lock with a shaky word. When he reached the doorway, his eyes anxiously searched the empty corridor, and then he turned back and murmured a different incantation.

Cringing and wrinkling his nose in disgust as a swarm of large, stinking bugs began to invade the chamber, Merlin let out a chuckle of relieved triumph. He had done it.

To his immense frustration, it took Arthur nearly three days to comment on the malodorous smell. It was a testament to how wary the other occupants of the palace were to mention Agravaine's name in the King's presence that they said nothing, even as they walked around with a permanent look of revulsion on their faces.

"I'll need you to polish my armor, then scrub the floors and then... what on earth is that awful smell? Have you forgotten to bathe again, Merlin?"

"Sire, I believe the odor is coming from your uncle's former chambers," Merlin said, both nervous and relieved now that the moment had come. "It's stronger outside his door than it is in any other area of the palace."

Arthur's face grew dark with remembered pain. "Didn't I tell you never to mention him again?"

"You asked!" Merlin protested, holding his hands out helplessly. "What do you want me to say?"

"Search the castle," Arthur said shortly. "Find and get rid of it, whatever it is. The smell is going to put me off my lunch."

Unable to help himself, Merlin snorted and muttered under his breath. "Of course, sire. Can't see you miss a meal, with the way _you're_ underfed."

Arthur took a step closer and glared at him suspiciously. "What did you say?"

Merlin cleared his throat and spoke more loudly. "I said I'll see to it immediately, and that it must be something dead."

"Oh," Arthur said mildly. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Merlin had the bugs contained and the box in his possession within ten minutes. He knew that he couldn't present his findings so quickly, however, so he idled around the castle, lighting fragrant rushes to chase the last of the lingering odor away. After he'd finished, he stopped by to pay a visit to Gwen.

Queen Guinevere opened the door to her sumptuous chambers, which were separated from Arthur's by a heavy, brocade curtain. "Merlin!" she exclaimed, smiling happily as she realized it was none other than her old friend who had come to visit. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"My Queen," Merlin said with a grin, giving a respectful bow.

Gwen rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. "Don't be silly, Merlin. Come in!"

Merlin followed her into the lovely room, reflecting on how much her life had changed since the day he'd met her; a shy, simple serving girl that bore little resemblance to the strong, confident woman she'd become. And yet, the essence of who she was; her sweetness, kind nature and open honesty were just the same as they'd always been. She would make a great queen, and a wonderful wife for Arthur.

The thought made him feel warm inside and more than ever, he knew without a shred of doubt that he was doing the right thing.

"What's in the box?" she asked him curiously, as if she could somehow sense the direction of his thoughts.

"Um, I'll tell you in a minute," he said awkwardly, not quite sure how to broach the subject. "Can we sit down?"

Belatedly, Merlin realized that it was far from proper protocol for a servant to ask a queen for a seat at her table, as if he were a noble guest who might expect such an honor. Gwen didn't seem to notice, however, and if she did, it was clear that she didn't care. She only smiled, and ushered him over to the elegantly gilded wooden table that was situated by the window.

"Shall I call for some refreshments?" she said, with a mischievous grin. "Perhaps some lovely desserts? Every servant should know what it feels like to be waited on for a change. I'm ashamed to admit that I've been enjoying the privilege a little more than I should be."

Merlin looked at her fondly as she poured him a glass of wine. "You've worked hard all your life, Gwen. You deserve to relax and be taken care of, don't you think?"

Gwen leaned closer with a twinkle in her eye. "Merlin, it's maddening!" she whispered in a conspiratorial voice. "I don't know what to do with myself! Arthur insists that I mustn't lift a finger to take care of the laundry, or cook, or wash the windows and I... I'm bored out of my mind! It's no wonder so many of these royals look so sour, with nothing to do all day but be waited on hand and foot and count the cracks in the walls."

Merlin burst out laughing, a merry sound that was quickly joined by Gwen's helpless giggles.

"R-Remember that one with the red hair?" Gwen barely managed to sputter out. "The one from Mercia who came for a visit during one of the tournaments a couple years ago? What was her name... Lady Alina?"

Merlin affected a pinched, haughty looking expression, which brought on a fresh round of mirth so uncontrollable that Gwen let out a loud snort between gales of laughter. She immediately looked abashed, pressing her lips tightly together in a valiant effort to regain composure.

"Forgive me, Merlin," she said as solemnly as she could manage. "That was undignified."

"Not half as undignified as Lady Alina ordering you to pluck the hair from her upper lip for her!"

"_Merlin!_" she gasped in amused surprise. "How did you know about that?"

"B-Because she visited Gaius that night for a remedy, claiming that some incompetent serving girl had botched the job so badly that she... that she..." he broke off with another howl of laughter.

"What on earth is going on in here?" demanded a suspicious voice from the doorway. Merlin and Gwen jumped in surprise, turning in their chairs to face a very stern looking Arthur.

Gwen wiped all traces of amusement from her face, then stood up to greet her husband. "Merlin just stopped by for a visit," she said matter-of-factly. "We were sharing some old memories."

"_Merlin_ should be seeing about his chores," Arthur responded, glaring accusingly at his manservant. "He should know better than to..."

"To spend a little time with an old friend?" Gwen said archly. "To make the queen happy?"

Arthur opened and closed his mouth several times, as if he didn't know how to deal with the situation. "Guinevere, I know you're fond of him," he finally said gently. "But he has a job to do. He can't just..."

"Stop by in the middle of the day, when he should be off polishing your armor or performing whatever menial tasks you demand of him?"

"Well, yes," Arthur said, looking flustered. "Besides, you know it isn't proper. Not that _I_ mind that he's a servant, of course, but some people might think..."

"Arthur," Gwen said, giving him a chastising look. "You _married _a servant. Surely the kingdom isn't going to fall apart if the queen chooses to share a little conversation with one. Besides, there are dozens of pages and serving boys lounging about the castle. Your armor isn't going to rust over if you give Merlin a break every now and again."

"Well," Arthur faltered in the face of his new wife's stern observations. "He should have asked for permission first. That's all I meant."

"He already _has _permission," Gwen countered sweetly, reaching up to wind her arms around his neck. "From me. Didn't you encourage me to speak up, Arthur? Weren't you the one who said I was queen now, and that my wishes should be obeyed without question?"

If Arthur had any further objection, it was melted away by the soft kiss she planted upon his jaw. All was serene for a time, until his eyes shifted from Gwen, to Merlin, and then to the mysterious box that sat forgotten in an empty chair.

He raised a curious eyebrow. "What's that?"


	3. Part III

**- -o- - Part III - -o- -**

"Get rid of it," Arthur growled, his voice full of pain and quiet fury. "How _dare _you? Didn't I tell you I wanted no more reminders of that... that..."

Gwen placed a restraining hand on his arm. "I'm sure Merlin didn't mean to offend you, Arthur. Maybe we could just take a quick look and see what's inside? What harm can it do?"

"The man _betrayed _me, Guinevere," he said coldly, turning away from the box as if he couldn't bear to look upon it. "He was my family and I trusted him and... _hundreds_ of innocent lives, lost because of his treachery and my failure to recognize what he really was. I told you, Merlin, _take it away!_"

Although Merlin had some sense of how much Agravaine's betrayal still pained Arthur, this was a twist he hadn't expected. Reluctance, maybe, but outright refusal?

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin said quietly, with real sincerity in his voice. "I only thought... well, we know Agravaine was in league with many of Camelot's enemies, not just Morgana herself. Not all of those enemies are dead. What if there's information inside that could give an advantage if they decide to attack the kingdom again? Wouldn't you want to know?"

"Petitioning for a seat on the council, Merlin?" Arthur retorted sourly. "Why don't you go back to picking herbs, or spending time at the tavern, or whatever it is you do with your time? I hardly think I need you to advise me on state affairs."

Even as he pressed his lips tightly together, stung by the words, Merlin could see the reluctant acceptance beginning to build in Arthur's eyes. He knew Merlin had a point, and a very good one, even if he would never allow himself to admit it.

"All right," Arthur finally said with a heavy sigh. "I'll open it, if it will put your mind at ease. Probably just a bunch of socks or something, but I'll open it. Where's the key?"

Merlin cringed, suddenly realizing there was one very important detail he hadn't thought of. It was easy to forget, when opening a lock took someone like himself no more effort than a wave of the fingers.

"I... there isn't a key, but the lock did feel a little loose while I was carrying it up here. Let me see."

He picked up the box from the table and turned away, pretending to fiddle with the lock. Breathing the magical words, softer than a whisper, he smiled to himself as he felt the latch come free.

"Did you say something, Merlin?" Gwen inquired kindly. "Do you need help?"

"It _does_ feel loose, but I can't quite seem to..."

"Give it to me," Arthur interjected, taking the box from Merlin's hands and easily lifting the lid. He arched a skeptical eyebrow at his servant. "Really, Merlin, I've seen kittens who could best you for strength."

Merlin ignored the insult as he anxiously watched Arthur rifle through the contents of the box.

"Oh, look at this," Arthur said sarcastically. "A book on sorcery. That's nice. Stolen records, a vial of poison, a dagger, a silver bracelet?" One by one, he carelessly tossed the items aside. "I knew there would be nothing useful in here, just a whole lot of..."

Merlin's breath caught in his throat as Arthur pulled the forged letters free and held them up to the light. Without a word, the King sank down into the nearest chair and began to read, a lightning quick succession of agony, grief, shame and horror playing across his features as he did so.

"Arthur?" Gwen murmured gently, both fear and concern evident in her voice. "Arthur, what is it?"

Speechless, Arthur slowly shook his head back and forth. Abruptly, with the letters clenched tightly in his fist, he rose and left the chamber.

Gwen stared after him in bewilderment, before turning to Merlin. "Should we go after him?"

"No," Merlin said firmly. "Believe me, I've seen him like this. He needs to be alone, until he comes to terms with whatever is in those letters.

"But it must have been something truly terrible, for him to look like that," she protested anxiously. "What if he needs our help?"

"He'll let us know, Gwen." Merlin said softly, laying a comforting hand on her back. "You have to trust him."

For nearly two hours, the pair of friends sat silently as they both waited for the most important person in their life to reappear. At long last, he did, entering the room with sagging shoulders and eyes that were suspiciously red.

"Merlin, I need to speak with Guinevere," he said softly, and much more politely than Merlin would have ever expected of him. "Can you please leave us? Wait outside, I'd like to talk to you when I'm done."

It was impossible to hear the words that were spoken from the other side of the thick wooden door. Nonetheless, Merlin could easily guess at the direction of the conversation, as he heard tones of confused questioning, then helpless, relieved sobbing, accompanied by Arthur's soft murmurs of comfort.

Finally the door opened, and Arthur appeared, somehow managing to look both deeply grieved, yet more at peace than he had in years. "The Queen needs to rest for now," he said with an expression that was filled with tenderness. "Come with me to my chamber."

Merlin listened patiently as Arthur read the contents of the letters aloud, despite the fact that he knew every word by heart. He feigned confusion, bewilderment and anger that really weren't so hard to fake at all, as he watched both the shame and the guilt play across Arthur's features.

"So it wasn't really Lancelot?" he questioned innocently, relieved to see that Arthur no longer cringed from the name with that awful look of betrayal in his eyes.

"No, Merlin," he whispered painfully. "I should have known that our Lancelot would have never done such a thing. Perhaps I knew all along, deep down. I don't know. But I should've realized that he... that neither of them... how could I have been so blind, Merlin? How?"

"It sounds to me as if Morgana wove a powerful deception," Merlin replied, trying to bring him comfort. "We were all fooled, Arthur. We wanted him back so much. She took advantage of our grief, our love for a friend. We cannot fault ourselves for that."

"Maybe you're right, Merlin," Arthur said with a heavy sigh. "But how can we leave it like this? I can spend a lifetime making it up to Guinevere, and I intend to, but what about Lancelot? An innocent, honorable man who sacrificed his life for us all, and everyone in Camelot knows him as a traitor, an adulterer. How can I ever make amends for that?"

"Lancelot would not blame you," Merlin said sadly. "He would understand that you could've only reacted to the truth as you knew it at the time. If he were here, you would've earned his forgiveness before you even thought to ask for it."

Arthur rose from his seat on the bed and began to pace restlessly. "You're right, Merlin. He didn't... he never asked for anything, did he? He loved us all selflessly, whether we deserved it or not."

"Yes, he did."

"Where did you bury him?" Arthur asked quietly, pausing to stare out the window with unseeing eyes. "Was it a fitting tribute?"

Merlin closed his eyes, still wanting to weep when he pictured Lancelot's face as he'd closed his eyes for the very last time. "Not as fitting as he deserved, but I did the best I could."

"Tomorrow, you will take me there."

**- -o- -**

The following morning dawned with a warm breath of spring, and not a single cloud marred the brilliant blue sky on the day Sir Lancelot would finally be laid to rest in truth. The quiet procession wound its way down to the lake, carrying flowers, fragrant boughs of fresh greenery, and other small tokens meant to offer a tribute to the man they'd all known and loved.

With Guinevere at his side, Arthur led the way. Close on his heels was Merlin, and then the knights, followed by a random collection of Camelot's citizens whose lives had all been touched by Lancelot in one way or another.

Arthur came to a standstill on the shores of the lake and stared out across the serene water, seeming unashamed of the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks. As Merlin stood quietly behind him, his heart whispering its own silent goodbyes, he saw him lean over to whisper something in Gwen's ear.

"Lancelot loved you until the very end," the words floated back to him on the breeze, carrying not even a hint of jealousy or suspicion. "It was _you_, more than any of us, who brought out the goodness in him."

"I know, Arthur," Gwen murmured back softly, sorrowfully. "And I loved him too. I always have, and I always will. But it isn't... we never..."

"Enough, Guinevere," Arthur interjected, sliding a comforting arm around her shoulders. "The time for that has passed. I know the truth now, and I accept that you meant a great deal to each other in a way that was never a betrayal to me. Please don't be afraid to grieve for him."

Moments later, Arthur addressed the crowd that had come to mourn Sir Lancelot. Merlin would never remember exactly what he'd said after that day, but he would _always _know that the words had been the right ones... words of honor, love, loyalty and sacrifice.

He lingered on the shores of the lake until nightfall, long after the crowd had dispersed. Someday, he'd find a way to give them _all _proper tribute, to tell the world who they'd really been. Freya, his father, Will, and all of the nameless faces beyond those he'd loved himself; innocent people who had suffered due to the persecution of magic, or through the abuse of its power.

Someday, he would find a way to speak for them all. But for now, at least he'd found a way to speak for Lancelot, the devoted friend who had so desperately needed a voice.

And at least for a time, that was enough.


End file.
